“The blizzard raged on. Again and again, the marching column had to stop. My comrades collapsed and simply remained on the ground. In most cases, those who were no longer able to walk would be left behind. This meant sure death.

At some point, a column of blurred men in uniforms appeared beside us in the blizzard. Initially we thought they were our own but we heard snippets of Russian words. I quickly aimed my self-loading rifle at one of the shadowy outlines; pulled the trigger, and nothing.

The gun lock had frozen.

The enemy had noticed us too and instantly began to shoot. ‘Kneel! Machine Gun on the shoulder!’, shouted my gunner. My shoulder became a makeshift gun mount. I pressed myself against the bipod with full force.

The MG rattled along in short bursts. The noise almost tearing my ear drums apart. Some of the shadows we spotted earlier fell to the ground. The rest retreated into the blizzard. We marched on.”
– Hans Kahr, German Army. Eastern Front 1944.
As we always say here at Battles and Beers (TM) Every soldier has a story, and every story deserves to be told.